


April Showers/May Flowers

by scatteringmyashes



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-War, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Ferdinand intends on brightening Hubert's office, no matter what Hubert has to say about it. He doesn't quite think it through.Or: Ferdinand gives Hubert flowers. It goes about as well as you think.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 15
Kudos: 180





	April Showers/May Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Rest Day zine, which was a charity zine that raised money for COVID-19 relief. We're currently discussing a rerun, so follow us for a chance to grab a copy for yourself! 
> 
> Otherwise, thanks for reading and I promise to update my other fics soon;;;;

A man’s worth could be measured by many a factor, but one that Ferdinand weighed heavily was the quality of his office. After all, it was an indicator of what he held dear. Was it a dark and dreary place with heavy curtains? Was it cluttered, a chaotic array of papers and trash? Perhaps there was a globe, or an instrument, or a large self-portrait — all indicators of a deeper personality, more information that Ferdinand could glean.

Hubert’s study, in Ferdinand’s opinion, was a dull place. Oh, Ferdinand enjoyed the company of his fellow, a fact that his younger self would have been utterly aghast at, but Hubert’s taste in decor was… lacking. 

It was not that Hubert had a poor sense of aesthetic, but rather that he did not seem to find much worth possessing that was not darkly shaded if not downright black in hue. This was observable in his attire, in his personal chambers, even in the equipment that adorned his horse. Not that Ferdinand spent much time observing Hubert’s clothes, in his quarters, or riding with him.

Not outside their daily tea and coffee breaks, the occasions they discussed policy together, the meetings actually on their schedules, and the rides they would go on in order to, as Ferdinand phrased it, clear the air and help them think. Hubert didn’t seem particularly fond of those, but he agreed to them nevertheless. 

So yes, work necessitated that they spend a great amount of time together. As such, Ferdinand was often in Hubert’s study or vice versa. And if Ferdinand was to spend so much time in a sparsely decorated, cold, dimly lit office, then he was going to make some changes. 

“Hello, Hubert,” Ferdinand said as he walked into the aforementioned room. The curtains — thick, heavy, probably original from several centuries ago if the smell of old fabric was anything to go by — were drawn over the window. The only light was the small oil lamp that Hubert had close to his papers, the flame flickering over parchment and making wet ink glisten. 

“Good morning,” Hubert replied, not looking up from his papers. “One of these days, I am going to accidentally skewer you with a dark spike.” He had been threatening this ever since the start of the war, back when their base was in shambles and Ferdinand didn’t have the energy to care that there were more rats than books in his office. 

Ferdinand smiled, setting his gift on Hubert’s desk, though he was clear to not cover any papers. He was a master at toeing the line between enthusiastic and obnoxious, as Dorothea described it — though her comparison between him and a puppy was inaccurate if he had anything to say about it. 

Hubert did not react. “I have told you before that any paperwork should go through the official channels. We need everything to be—”

“It’s not paperwork,” Ferdinand interrupted. “It’s a gift.” He smiled broadly as Hubert finally met his eyes. 

Hubert stared at the object. The vase was tasteful — a slate grey porcelain with delicate white etchings traced across the surface. It was maybe half a foot tall and slender, though the lips opened up to allow the sunflowers inside to lean gently against the sides. Ferdinand had been particularly chuffed when he realized that sunflowers were in season, picking up a few the other day in preparation for this very moment. 

Hubert frowned. Ferdinand, despite expecting nothing less, couldn’t help but feel his gut twist — just a little. 

“What is this?” Hubert asked.

“What do you think they are?” Ferdinand replied. 

“Well, unless you have mastered a spell that I did not know about, it is a vase of flowers.” Hubert proded one petal with the back of his quill, as if expecting it to combust or turn into confetti. 

Ferdinand chuffed, crossing his arms. “Well, your jest over my magical abilities aside, at least your observational skills have not faltered.” 

“Then why,” Hubert continued, setting his quill aside so he could lace his gloved fingers together, “is this your gift to me?” 

“Well, I was thinking that your office could use a bit of color.” 

Hubert frowned. “It has color.”

Ferdinand cast his eyes over the room. There were two bookshelves, the desk, and then an extra chair that had been added months ago. It was the perfect height for Ferdinand and he had spent many an afternoon sitting there and debating Hubert over everything from empire law to opera stars to whether it was accurate to describe _vermilion_ as similar to _crimson_. 

Besides the carpet, which was a deep maroon, and the bindings on the books, the only color came from the parchment itself. Hubert came to this conclusion at the same time as Ferdinand. However, neither had time to discuss it as a knock rang out in the room. 

“Minister Von Vestra?“ A woman asked. “I have a message from the Emperor.” 

“That is my cue to leave,” Ferdinand said. “I will send you the care instructions. Oh, and open your curtains. They need plenty of sunlight.” 

He went to the door, swinging it open with a wide gesture. He greeted the maid, bade her have a good day, and went on his merry way. He smiled as he heard the maid compliment Hubert on his sunflowers, telling him that they brightened the room. 

“Thank you,” Hubert said, the last thing Ferdinand heard before turning around the corner. 

#

Ferdinand next saw Hubert when the two met for tea and coffee. It was a habit. They met in a common room, in the gardens, sometimes in one of their offices — there was a two hour period where they were not to be interrupted. Short of the world exploding or Edelgard needing them, even the most enthusiastic of messengers knew better than to arrive with news. 

This was not only because the two valued the rare moment when they could work together uninterrupted, as on many occasions they worked while they had their drink of choice, but also because if one made a nuisance of themself at the wrong moment, Minister Von Vestra was known to assign a servant or two to assist with Lord Glouchester when he visited. It was marginally more enjoyable than cleaning the stables, if only because the scent of sickeningly strong rose perfume was at least slightly more bearable than that of horse manure. 

“It is simple,” Ferdinand argued. “Though we may not be placing much weight in nobility, it is still important that we show that it has not changed us for the worse. Those of us with noble blood must continue to be examples while also encouraging our companions to reach their highest potential.”

Hubert smirked into his cup. Ferdinand, unfortunately, noticed.

“What are you making such a face for?” Ferdinand asked.

“No reason,” Hubert said, lying through his teeth.

“No, truly, tell me. I can handle it.” 

“Are you certain?” 

Ferdinand gave him a look, trying to convey his feelings. Hubert chuckled, setting his cup down. His coffee was still warm, a hint of steam rising from the liquid.

“It is funny, that’s all. Even now, you place such an emphasis on your appearance and your reputation. I can understand your concern over your reputation. It’s important for people to know what to expect. But your appearance? Surely someone as busy as you has better things to do with your free time.”

“I make the time for the things that are important to me, such as drinking tea with you.” Ferdinand raised his own cup. “Besides, if I didn’t manage my time well, what kind of a minister would I be? A poor example of one, that is certain.”

Hubert didn’t smile but his eyes softened, the corners of his lips twitching before he returned to his usual passive expression. His gloves were so white that any blemish was visible, which was how Ferdinand could see the barest hint of pollen left behind on the tips of his fingers. 

“So, what are your thoughts on your plants?” He asked, leaning forward. His hair tumbled down his shoulders. It was nice, allowing himself the luxury of such locks. During the war, it had been a combination of stress and eventual stubbornness that kept his hair so long. Now, it was an indulgence he allowed himself like a man who took two sugars instead of one in his morning tea. 

“Hm? It is… fine, I suppose. I will need to find a more suitable location for it, however.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Ferdinand felt himself smile. “I think that it’s rather dashing. Even the most dour of us need a splash of color to refresh ourselves from time to time.”

“It is too large. I don’t have the room.” Hubert certainly had the space, so Ferdinand chose not to honor that comment with a verbal reply. He merely raised an eyebrow. “It makes my nose itch.” The two of them had been friends for years, enemies for longer, and the only thing Hubert was allergic to was the color pink. “It… is not becoming.” 

At that, Ferdinand had to laugh. “What is unbecoming about flowers? They are a window into the soul, a way of breathing life into any environment. They are precious between lovers and family and friends alike. Surely there is nothing that even the infamous Hubert von Vestra can find abhorrent about flowers.”

Hubert was silent for a long moment before finally saying, “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Right, I forgot that you can’t let people know that you breathe,” Ferdinand jested. Hubert smiled.

“Exactly.” Hubert took a final drink of his coffee. "I cannot guarantee their survival. If I leave my windows open, then that leaves myself and my work vulnerable. I am sure you understand." 

It was not a surprise and Ferdinand knew better than to take it personally. He just returned Hubert's grin, though his was less likely to scare small children.

"Then I shall have to get you more."

"Hmph. Well, as long as you are aware that they will continue to die."

"They would not be as beautiful if they lasted forever." 

Hubert rolled his eyes. "I will never understand you. Now, tell me about your endeavors training your latest horse." 

Ferdinand's eyes lit up. It was a pitiful attempt at a subject change, but he would never turn down an opportunity to talk about horses. Hubert, for his credit, pretended to pay attention. Ferdinand appreciated that. 

#

"You actually brought me more flowers," Hubert said, raising an eyebrow as Ferdinand replaced the dying sunflowers. A few dead petals fell on Hubert's desk. "Those are… daisies?" 

"Daffodils!" Ferdinand hoped he sounded as accosted as he felt. "Do not tell me that you never learnt anything of botany or floral trends."

"If we are discussing plants, then I can say I have never studied anything that is not applicable to poisons," Hubert replied. He set his quill down, paperwork temporarily forgotten. "I take it that you asked before cutting these from the gardens?" 

Ferdinand decided not to ask how Hubert could recognize them but not know their name. It wasn't like Hubert walked through the Emperor's gardens every time he had to talk to Edelgard. 

"The gardener gave them to me herself." He walked around Hubert's desk and pulled the curtains back. Hubert flinched but said nothing. "They need less light so they should last longer."

"They are white," Hubert murmured. 

"Yes. You know, there are some healers who state that having flowers in your room helps you experience less stress." Ferdinand flashed Hubert a smug grin. "So if you find yourself more at peace, you can thank me."

"Would these be the same healers who told Caspar that swimming in cold water improves one’s constitution and made him acquire pneumonia in the middle of spring during the war?" Hubert asked. 

"No, because I do not listen to Linhardt if I can help it," Ferdinand answered. 

Hubert scoffed, but he did not go back to his work, so Ferdinand felt validated in lingering for a moment. He plucked the fallen petals off Hubert's desk, tucking them into his pocket. 

"It is recommended that you water them once every other day. They also are said to smell best with fresh air — I do not suppose that I could convince you to actually open your window?" 

"No." Hubert stared at the flowers like they would start speaking if he just focused long enough. "You do know that these will die in my office?"

"Yes, flowers tend to do that." 

"They would have lived longer if they remained in the gardens."

"They were crowding out newer flowers and the gardener was going to feed them to the royal chickens." Ferdinand tossed some hair behind one shoulder. "Do not underestimate me, Ferdinand von Aegir! I am an old hand at gifting things to others. Even in the war, I was a master at cheering everyone." 

Hubert chuckled. "Who did you give flowers to during the war?" He held up a hand. "Wait, do not tell me. Let me guess. Lorenz?" 

"No," Ferdinand replied as he leaned against Hubert's desk. "Good guess." 

"Dorothea?" 

"Oh, you would think so, but she always seemed like she would stab me if I tried and then she began seeing Petra — I hardly wanted to come between that." Ferdinand laughed and shook his head. "I will give you a hint. You see them every day." 

Hubert frowned. He leaned back, one finger toying with his bottom lip. 

"You know that could refer to any number of people," he said slowly. 

"Think on it." Ferdinand caught Hubert's eyes. He froze, then shook it off. "I have a meeting today that may run a little long—"

"Yes, your meeting with General Armstrong," Hubert interrupted. "I already assumed that you would take longer than usual. It is fine. I will wait to make your tea until quarter past." 

There was so much there, Ferdinand wasn't even sure where to begin. He crossed his arms, unafraid to meet Hubert's mildly infuriating smirk. 

"Quarter past! I am offended that you think I would make you wait that long, even if we agree otherwise. If we have a meeting, I always am on time. It is on my honor as a — a minister of Adrestia." Ferdinand stumbled over the final sentence, but Hubert didn't point it out. Even after all this time, some habits die hard. "And do I even want to know how you know who my meeting is with?" 

"No." Hubert picked his quill up. "You should go, though. You do not want to be late for your update with the head secretary." 

Now officially dismissed, Ferdinand left. He decided that if Hubert told him not to ask, it would be wise to follow that recommendation. 

#

The daffodils lasted longer than the sunflowers, which Ferdinand was not surprised by in the slightest. However, they slowly started to wilt and soon Ferdinand was leaving with more petals in his pockets than were left on the stems. They also were having the opposite effect as he had hoped. Rather than brighten the room, their decaying presence was rather depressing. 

"I think they look fine," Hubert said when Ferdinand asked. "They just need a slight pick-up." 

Ferdinand reminded him that he was not allowed to judge the vitality of anything. Hubert shrugged. He gestured to the pot that sat on his desk, carefully placed between papers and a series of unanswered letters.

"Well, if you are here, would you like a sip? I believe Petra may have confused us — she sent me a blend in her last letter." Hubert let Ferdinand pour both of them a cup. "Thank you. I thought you would appreciate it more than I would." 

"I think you are underestimating yourself," Ferdinand replied. "This is the perfect temperature, though it has been seeping a little long."

Hubert shrugged. "I was distracted by someone criticizing my flowers." 

"Ha! So now that they are half-dead, you accept them as your own?" 

"Well, I assume that you would never take claim to them." Hubert sniffed the air. "A bit sharp for my taste, but I will tell Petra that her efforts are welcome." 

The two sat in peaceful silence for a time. Tea was best enjoyed with thought and care, if Ferdinand had anything to say about it. This one certainly was a good blend, one not common to Fódlan. Ferdinand made a note to ask Petra about where she had gotten it and whether it could be exported more often. 

"Was it the professor?" Hubert suddenly asked. Ferdinand gave him a curious look. "That you gifted the flowers to when we were younger." 

"Ha! As much as I am sure they would have been amusing, I never did presume more than a mentorship with them. They always were a bit… odd to me. Though — did they not buy you flowers for your birthday?" Ferdinand inquired with an eyebrow raise. 

"Yes, though they had tea with everyone else. I think that they heard I disliked the taste." Hubert set his empty cup on the saucer. 

The set had been a gift from Ferdinand. He joked that every noble had to have at least one porcelain tea set. Hubert had pointed out that there was no nobility anymore. Ferdinand told him that it didn't matter, not when it came to tea. 

Hubert had returned the favor by sending Ferdinand a coffee press the next month. At least, Ferdinand assumed it was Hubert. The item had just shown up in Ferdinand's personal study — which was warm and welcoming, even Bernadetta agreed, _thank you very much_ — with a black ribbon around the steel spout. 

It had not killed Ferdinand yet, so he considered that a success. 

"I will confess, Ferdinand, that you have found a question I cannot answer. So I will ask — who is it that you gave flowers to?" Hubert laced his fingers together. 

Ferdinand smiled. "You, of course." 

Hubert blinked at him. Ferdinand's grin grew. 

“I do not understand.” 

“Well, I gifted you the coffee, did I not? And on the tin I folded some wildflowers that I had collected the other day.” Ferdinand swirled his tea around. “I do not make a habit of giving others things. When I was young, it was discouraged. It does no one any good to spread your favor to many, lest people think you are frivolous or do not hold them dear. Oh, gifts may be exchanged upon birthdays or important events, but day-to-day… Well, it is best kept to a minimum.” Ferdinand shrugged. 

“I suppose,” Hubert murmured. He looked away, hair falling in his eyes. “I never thought of it like that.”

“Of course you have not. I doubt that you have given more than five gifts in your life.” Ferdinand finished his drink and then stood. He gave Hubert a slight bow. “Thank you for the tea. I am afraid I must cut this short, as I have more paperwork than usual — the rains to the north have caused several mudslides and people are requesting assistance.” 

Hubert, who probably knew Ferdinand’s schedule better than Ferdinand, nodded. He met Ferdinand’s gaze again.

“Will you be travelling to assess any of the damages?”

“I have been considering it, but I would not want to leave you or Emperor Edelgard without my abilities.”

“I think that we can manage.” In the past, that would have been a challenge. Now, it was said in earnest. 

At least, as earnest as Hubert could get.

“Thank you. I will see how severe the damage is.” Ferdinand left for his own office.

He had a servant go to Hubert and drop off some fresh flowers that afternoon, as well as a short note apologizing for not making their tea time. Gardenias, this time, to keep Hubert on his toes. 

#

“Ferdinand?” A woman asked, knocking lightly on Ferdinand’s open door. He looked up from the letter he was penning, smiling broadly when he realized who it was. “Oh!” Bernadetta exclaimed as Ferdinand stood. He strode across his office to offer her a hug, which she returned with about as much enthusiasm as he thought would happen. “H-Hello. I was in the area and I wanted to say hi.”

“I did not realize you were in Enbarr. What brings you here? Are you here long? Oh, please sit. I am sorry to say I do not have any tea, but I can always call for some if you would like.” Ferdinand steered Bernadetta to the set of chairs that were placed to the side for occasions just like this. He kept his space ready for company at any time. His open door policy was not just figurative, as much as his poor secretary wished for it. 

Bernadetta twisted her hands in her shirt. “Well, I am not going to be here very long. I actually came to say hi to Hubert. Um, I mean—” Her face adopted a rather alarming red hue. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that. P-Please don’t tell him that I told you that.”

“I will keep it between us,” Ferdinand promised, though he couldn’t help but burn with curiosity as to why she would come in person and not just exchange letters. Perhaps there was something happening in the Varley territory? Whatever it was, Ferdinand knew that Hubert would tell him if he needed to know.

“Thank you.” Bernadetta stared at her hands. “Oh, this was a mistake. I must be bothering you. I should go—”

“No, no, your company is appreciated. I promise I was only completing a letter that is not of much importance in the first place,” Ferdinand lied. He was working on correspondence with a minor lord who had recently discovered gold in his lands and had to convince him to accept higher taxes as a result. 

He would rather take Hubert on a pegasus ride. 

“How have you been? I feel like your letters are always so short.” Ferdinand smiled warmly to try to reassure Bernadetta. “Please, I have all afternoon to catch up with an old friend.”

The two did, indeed, spend most of the afternoon chatting. Ferdinand was able to draw out that Bernadetta was doing quite well by most metrics and kept in touch with the majority of their old friends through letters. She was writing more creative works as well, but she refused to tell him any details. He made a mental note to check the bookstores in the next few months to see if anything familiar had come out. 

Other than that, Bernadetta was quite tight-lipped about how her visit with Hubert had gone, though she did state that she was convinced to stay an extra day so she could have lunch with Edelgard tomorrow.

“Oh, I am sure that she is delighted to see you. It’s been rather dull here — good work, of course, and never a quiet moment, but it is nothing compared to what we saw just a few years ago.” Ferdinand laughed. “I do not miss the fighting, but I miss the action. Though I do not suppose that makes any sense to you.”

Bernadetta shook her head fiercely. “It does not at all. I am very happy to spend all day at home.” Her expression faded to something like contentment. “Not to say I’m not happy to see you, but next time, let’s all meet at my home. We have room! Lots and lots of room.”

Ferdinand let out another laugh, pulling some of his hair behind one ear. “Well, if I can get my obligations managed and convince Hubert and Edelgard to take the time off, I am sure we could visit at some point in the winter.” 

“I would like that,” Bernadetta confessed. “It sounds like it would be nice, making happy memories there..” Her face grew dark. Ferdinand quickly shifted the conversation. 

“I will bring it up next time I see them — though you may see Edelgard before I do, come to think of it. Regardless, I would be honored to see your home. It has been… Well, actually, I do not remember ever visiting Varley, though I must have at some point.” He shrugged. “I can stop by Aegir on the way.”

“How is Aegir? Is it odd not being a noble?” Bernadetta wondered. Her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with gloved hands. “S-Sorry! You don’t have to talk about it.” Her words were muffled, but Ferdinand could understand commands on a battlefield. His nervous friend was nothing compared to that. 

“It is fine, Bernadetta. I will admit, though, sometimes I miss being there more often. But my duties to the empire come first, always.” 

He thought about how Aegir territory was in a trust, how he only heard updates from her in weekly letters that contained none of the details. 

How did the flowers smell? Were the orchards ripe with fruit yet? Were the fields lush once again? It had been years since this arrangement had begun but Ferdinand still, sometimes, longed for the simple days of riding the land and knowing that everything in sight would be his responsibility one day. It was not easy, but it was less stressful than having to help care for an entire continent. 

“Always, huh?” Bernadetta adopted a different expression, her eyebrows drawn down and her mouth in a thin line. “So, would there be anything that you ever put about your work?” 

He had to think on it, but slowly nodded.

“I think that, if the circumstance arose, I could perhaps love someone more… But, to be frank, I think that the best match would know that the strength and well-being of the empire comes first. That is what the responsibility of prime minister stands for, after all. It is a position with a great deal of trust placed in it. If I were not to adhere to the standards of the occupation, then I may as well step down for someone who could.” Ferdinand found himself slightly out of breath. He colored, expecting Bernadetta to be overwhelmed.

Instead, she laughed.

“S-Sorry,” she said, though not out of fear. Her laughs were muffled against her fingers as they pressed up against her lips, but did little to stop her shoulders from shaking. “It has been so long since I’ve heard one of your speeches. It reminds me why you two get along so well.” 

Before Ferdinand could ask for clarification, the bell struck for the hour. Bernadetta’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no! I really need to go.” She stood, pushing her chair aside frantically, barely able to hold still with how much she was shaking. “Thank you for talking to me. You need to replace his flowers, the gardenias are dying. Please don’t let Hubert know we were talking!” 

He barely had time to stand before she hugged him and dashed out of the office before the last bell had been struck. Ferdinand blinked at the spot where Bernadetta had just been. He could hear her footsteps down the hall, each growing fainter and fainter as she put as much distance as she could between the two of them.

 _Some things are not worth pursuing,_ he thought.

He was certain to arrange for a collection of orange tulips to be sent to Hubert. A bit tongue-in-cheek, perhaps, as the shade matched Ferdinand’s hair in the right light, but the splash of color would really brighten up his office even if they didn’t last long.

#

Ferdinand usually met Hubert for tea and coffee at a predetermined location — often it was a side room or occasionally the private if the weather was kind enough. Rarely they met in one of their offices. They spent enough time within those four walls as it was, and the point of their meetings was to encourage the other to rest. 

It was easy enough for Ferdinand to praise the virtues of a good break, but it was another altogether to actually go down that path. 

Still, it was unusual for Hubert to send a letter to Ferdinand asking to meet at his office before tea, rather than elsewhere. The letter itself came in the form of a tiny scroll slipped between the pages of Ferdinand's 57 page manifesto on the benefits of crop rotation when cross-referenced with three different styles of fertilizer. Considering that the reading was dull enough to make even Ferdinand weep, he had no idea how Hubert expected him to read it and he didn't even question how it had appeared in his work.

"Does a closed door and lock mean nothing to you?" Ferdinand asked as he strode into Hubert's own domain. Hubert looked like he had a snarl and a comment in reply, but he stopped at the last moment. 

"Here." Hubert held out a bundle of flowers. They were all white with thin petals and a bundle of yellow pollen in the center. The bundle was wrapped in careful rose red silk, the bow contrasting Hubert's cream gloves and the sleeve of his black robes. "A gift."

Ferdinand beamed. "Oh, thank you, Hubert! They look lovely." He took them. "Rainflowers — I did not know they were local to this region." 

"They aren't."

"Well, I shall treasure them greatly." Ferdinand gestured towards the door. “Now, shall we?” 

Hubert’s face did a funny thing, a slight twitch and a scowl that turned into terrifying nothingness. Ferdinand was used to it and didn’t put much stock in his reaction. Sometimes Hubert just… wasn’t a normal person. 

It was endearing. 

“Of course,” Hubert murmured. “Let us go.”

#

The next day, Ferdinand was in the middle of paperwork when he took a moment to pause and consider his next words. He looked at the flowers that he had placed in a delicate vase. They really were quite beautiful, though their meaning was rather sad. He always thought that flower language was interesting. After all, red roses meant love, but other flowers had much deeper meanings. 

_Rainflowers… symbolizing atonement for sins and requited love. An odd choice—_ Ferdinand’s eyes widened. He stood up abruptly, not even caring as he knocked his inkwell over. He dashed out of his office, running down the hall. His secretary stuck her head out of her room, but he was already far down the hall before she could ask.

“My apologies!” He shouted as he almost collided with a group of knights.

“Pardon!” He cried out, taking a corner at an inadvisable speed and almost falling in his own haste.

“Important business,” he lied, or at least obscured the truth, as he finally dashed into the wing where Hubert’s office was located.

“Minister von Vestra, do you have a moment?” Ferdinand asked as he threw open Hubert’s door.

Hubert blinked at him. It was hard to catch him off guard, but Ferdinand vaguely realized that he had managed to do so. For a moment, he was certain he was overthinking this. Then he considered who Hubert was as a person, their conversations over the last few days, and the way Hubert was looking at him in that very moment.

Ferdinand crossed the room in two broad strides. His hair fluttered behind him, almost a literal mane. He reached out, then hesitated. He did not miss the way Hubert leaned forward as he stood. 

“The flowers… You know what they mean, do you not?” Ferdinand murmured. Hubert nodded. His Adam’s Apple bobbed. “Of course you do. Bastard.” But there was no heat in his words.

“If I am seeing things — if you meant nothing by your gifts, please inform me so that I may not be a greater fool than I already am,” Hubert whispered. 

Ferdinand could not hold back a soft laugh. One hand came up to cradle Hubert’s face — he flinched but let Ferdinand caress his sharp cheek, let Ferdinand run a gloved thumb across Hubert’s bottom lip. Ferdinand had the silly urge to pull his glove off and touch Hubert skin to skin. Instead, he licked his lips.

“I am the only fool here, as I could not open my eyes wide enough to see what was happening right in front of me.”

Hubert’s eyes scanned Ferdinand’s face. At some point he had taken Ferdinand’s free wrist in one hand and was clutching it tight. Ferdinand wondered if it was for stability or to test Ferdinand’s pulse — knowing Hubert, it was both. 

“Tell me, von Aegir, what has been happening?”

“If we are friends, use my name,” Ferdinand replied. 

“Ferdinand — cease your games and your taunts. What were the flowers for?” Hubert tried to snarl, but his eyes were too panicked. Ferdinand wondered when he had become so close, so familiar with Hubert von Vesta. 

He supposed the _how_ was less important. Whoever claimed the journey was the important part was a fool. The destination was all that mattered in circumstances of the heart. 

Ferdinand kissed Hubert. Their noses clashed and Hubert squeezed Ferdinand’s wrist so tight that Ferdinand thought that he had terribly misunderstood and was going to be blasted with the full power of Miasma, but it was a kiss. Hubert’s lip tasted like bitter coffee and he smelled like ash and he felt a bit like sandpaper, but there was also an underlying hint of something floral. 

A perfume, perhaps, of crushed rose petals or the hint of a sunflower or the soft scent of a daisy. Something soft and pleasant. Something light. Something Hubert von Vestra would never let anyone know except if they were close enough to kiss. 

Ferdinand smiled. 

#

_It is said that Minister von Vestra kept an array of flowers in his office ‘till the end of his days. Minister von Aegir, of course, was the source of every petal._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)


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